


Painting the Sky

by MoonJunhui



Series: And So We Dream [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Companion Piece, Gyuhao, M/M, Romance, Swearing, a lil bit of angst, and much rambling, and talks of benches, there is paint, wonhui because i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonJunhui/pseuds/MoonJunhui
Summary: A Gyuhao companion piece to 'Until the Sky Breaks'.Where Mingyu's on a journey of self discovery and Minghao's impatient.





	Painting the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is the companion piece for Gyuhao, which was sorely neglected in the main fic of 'Until the Sky Breaks'. If you haven't read that I advise you do because this will make a lot more sense. Unless you don't want to, then just read this and it might make sense, because I have terrible perspective on how my pieces actually are :P 
> 
> Featuring a small amount of Wonhui because I literally can't help myself (I have a problem I swear). Enjoy!

Mingyu meets him where he meets them all, in the dappled shadows of a bar he’s come to call home.

 

Not many would call it that, but home is where the people you love should be, so if Seventeen isn’t the definition of Mingyu’s home, he doesn’t know what is. It certainly isn’t the one-roomed apartment half-way across town that constantly smells of sterility and lemons.

 

In a way, one could say Mingyu met him at home. Which is weird, but there’s something about Minghao that just fits so well with that word too.

 

He was tall and smooth and elegant-

 

 _No_ , that’s a lie.

 

Mingyu _remembers_ him as tall and smooth and elegant, just as he remembers everyone differently when he first meets them.

 

There was a man, once, who had looked so dark and brooding in the dim lighting it was like he stepped out of Casablanca. He sat at the bar, nursing whiskies and talking to Mingyu about life, and all the time Mingyu was picturing him as this lonely and mysterious detective. Mingyu had been so lost in the Noir that after his shift he straight up told Wonwoo he was in love.

 

Wonwoo didn’t even bother to look surprised as he shuffled through his sheet music. “What was his name?”

 

“Well…”

 

“Gyu.”

  
  
“I don’t know! I forgot to ask.”

 

“Aish!” Wonwoo has this thing where he pushes his glasses up his nose—kinda like Milo from that Disney movie—as though it makes him look more intelligent, and therefore worthier to listen to. “It’s not love if you don’t even know his name.”

 

“How would you know?”

 

“The whole world knows!”

 

“Ariel fell in love with Prince Eric without knowing his name.”

 

“She was a character. And a fucking mermaid.”

 

Considering Mingyu later found out the man he met was forty, had two children and an unhappy marriage, Wonwoo had a point, as he so often does. Love doesn’t exist on the page as it does in real life. Which is a sad fact to know for someone that reads a lot. Or maybe that’s why he reads.

 

There’s just something about this place and the way people love to spill their stories that makes Mingyu fall in love with every single one of them regardless. Sometimes he feels like a priest, the bar his confessional. People are fascinating, their hearts are fascinating, and maybe that’s why he’ll never get bored of this job.

 

So, when the ‘tall and smooth and elegant’ man walked up to the bar, Mingyu was entirely open to falling in love once more.

 

Only he’d simply ordered his drinks in a flat tone and walked away. Mingyu liked the way he’d held his gaze, liked the boldness of his tongue, but the story felt unfinished, the character a sketch in his mind.

 

 

It’s only later, after Jun starts working at _Seventeen,_ that Mingyu finds out his name, and a piece of blank outline is coloured in.

 

“Oh, that was just Minghao.” Jun shrugs as he wipes a table Mingyu literally _just_ cleaned. Mingyu’s not sure if Jun thinks he’s being subtle about the way he keeps stealing glances at Wonwoo practicing, but considering he’s bumping into chairs every few seconds, it’s pretty damn obvious.

 

“ _Just_ Minghao?” Just? Mingyu likes the name and the way it sounds on his tongue. “What does it mean?”

 

Jun looks up and frowns. “How the hell would I know?”

 

“Haven’t you been friends for…ages?”

 

“Yeah but I don’t go around asking what my friends names mean.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because…” Jun hesitates, as though now contemplating whether it makes him a bad friend for _not_ knowing. “I don’t know, it’s weird! It’s not like you know what Seungcheol mea—”

 

“A clear victory.” Mingyu says proudly, listing off a few of the others he knows. “And yours is something to do with being good looking.”

 

“Oh. Well, it’s not wrong.” Jun stops cleaning and looks at Mingyu strangely for a moment. His lips purse and he sends a little glance back to the piano. If that’s not a question, Mingyu’s not sure what is.

 

“Wonwoo’s means helping people with a round heart.” Mingyu says, wiping circles in his table with the cloth. He likes the way Jun looks at Wonwoo, but more than that, he likes the way Wonwoo’s stopped playing and in order to start listening to them. “Pretty cool, huh?”

 

Jun scoffs. “Cool maybe. But it’s not fucking true.”

 

Just as Jun goes on to find out that it is true (in Wonwoo’s own way, of course) Mingyu discovers the meaning of the name Minghao.

 

The second time he meets him is far different than the first. It’s not in shadows and comfort of the _Seventeen_ , but the bright lights and flashy gowns of a Jeonghan style party.

 

This is the place to make connections, but Mingyu’s not interested in making connections, he’s interested in making friends. The problem is, nobody here really wants to be friends with a bartender. They ask him what _else_ he’s interested in and apparently ‘people’ is not the right answer.

 

So Minghao sticks close to Jeonghan, and eventually Jeonghan finds himself interested in Jun’s very pretty friend—the _other_ one, with the doe eyes and secretive lips.

 

That’s when Mingyu sees him.

 

Mingyu’s never seen anyone sit down and read at a party. This is surprising, considering he knows Wonwoo, but Wonwoo is the type to simply avoid them altogether if he’s not in the mood.

 

Minghao’s dressed like he should be in the mood, with bits of glittery jewellery hanging from his arms and neck. The way the light hits him makes dots bounce off in all directions, like a piece of living art. People stare, but he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, and that’s what draws Mingyu closer. The image of someone _smooth_ , _tall and elegant_ transforms, and what Mingyu sees now is sophistication at its finest.

 

“What are you reading?” It falls out of his mouth before Mingyu can stop it, crashing into Minghao much faster than intended.

 

Minghao almost drops the book, blinking up at him with eyes as lovely as his jewellery.

 

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to…” Mingyu sits down next to him and throws out a hand. “I’m Mingyu. We met the other night. Well, we didn’t really meet, I made your drinks.” That sounded weird. Don’t be weird. “I…work with Jun.”

 

“Ah. I thought I remembered you from somewhere.” Minghao’s voice is soft but the way he eyes Mingyu up and down is not.  “Not that I was trying very hard.”

 

Mingyu chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets in attempt to look _cool_. Does this look cool? No, probably not, but now he can’t take them out or that would make him look nervous. He _is_ nervous, but whatever. “You don’t like parties?”

 

Jeonghan—who is standing no less than a metre a way while talking to Jun’s Other Friend—throws him a look. Alright. Dumb question.

 

Minghao lifts a delicate shoulder, sending a whole new spray of light dots onto the ceiling. “I don’t like small-talk.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Mingyu nods. “That’s a normal thing not to like. Not many people do.”

 

Something about this makes Minghao smile and it is such a _sweet_ smile _,_ so very different from smooth or chic, so different from his sharp tongue, that Mingyu decides to discard any preconception he has whatsoever. Minghao is a person, as changeable as the light that bounces from him, not an engraving of Mingyu’s first impression.

 

Minghao crosses one leg over the other and rests his elbow on his knee, his chin on his palm. “If you want me to convince Jun to stop working with you, you’re out of luck.”

 

“No! I love him.” Mingyu may answer quickly, but it’s the truth, and Minghao seems very confused that he’s told it.

 

“Are you serious?” A single eyebrow arches and Mingyu likes the way it moves Minghao’s face out of perfect symmetry. “He’s annoying as fuck.”

 

Mingyu grins, because he knows exactly how he feels, only Wonwoo’s annoyingness comes in the form of silence and Jun’s in the form of touch. “He’s a little hyper, but I’m used to it, trust me.”

 

“Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them. Jun is one of those people.” Minghao mutters. But Mingyu doesn’t miss the way Minghao scans the crowd for his friend, doesn’t miss the way one hand glides to his bangles, shifting them in circles.

 

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realise Minghao’s nervous too, and maybe that’s why he brought a book in the first place. One would think someone who wears confidence in the form of glittering clothes wouldn’t get _nervous_ , but people think the same thing about Mingyu and his face.

 

After a moment, he speaks again, in a very matter of fact manner. “So, if it’s not getting Jun to quit, what do you want?”

 

Mingyu frowns. Either he wants Mingyu to leave, or Minghao doesn’t think he’s interesting enough to be talked to, which is more upsetting than the former. “What are you reading?” Mingyu asks again, only this time he tries to convey his interest.

 

Minghao hesitates. Mingyu doesn’t blame him, at a party like this people want a career move or sex, not conversation about books. “It’s called The Good Earth.” Minghao says slowly, showing the cover. “Have you read it?”

 

“No.” Mingyu takes it in his hands and flips to the summery. “I don’t read much, actually.”

 

“That’s dumb.” Minghao frowns. “You should.”

 

 “That’s right. I should.”

 

Mingyu’s not quite sure he remembers all that they talked about that night. All he knows is that Minghao didn’t get up and leave the couch, so Mingyu took it upon himself to keep him company.

 

He’s finds out he’s a dancer, which is cool. He _looks_ like a dancer, all willowy limbs and grace. Minghao thinks being a bartender is pretty cool too, which is new.

 

“I couldn’t do it.”

 

“Why? You just mix drinks and take money. It’s easy.”

 

“No. You’ve got to deal with people. People suck.”

 

“Only sometimes,” Mingyu grins. “Besides, I couldn’t do what you do either.”

 

“Have you ever tried?” Minghao asks, in the very blunt fashion that makes Mingyu want to.

 

They talk about movies and books, and how Minghao thinks so much more can be said in words than on screen. Mingyu argues that nobody could ever make _Shrek_ into a book, so the medium of film is just as superior. To which Minghao tells him he looks like Shrek so his opinion is invalid.

 

At some point, he’s told that Minghao’s name means bright and prosperous, and Mingyu’s pretty sure nothing has ever fit someone better. Neither Jun nor Wonwoo make an appearance even as the party begins to fizzle, and they both find themselves caring less and less that they do.

 

It’s only when Joshua comes to find Minghao that he leaves with a small wave and smile, nothing graceful or sophisticated about it. It’s awkward and adorable and Mingyu’s pretty sure he prefers this more than anything he thought he was.

 

“Do you know what I learnt tonight?” Jeonghan slurs as they climb back into Seungcheol’s car. Seungcheol steadies him with one hand and glares at Mingyu like it’s his fault Jeonghan is drunk and Wonwoo is missing.

 

“No and I don’t really care.”

 

Jeonghan giggles. “I learnt a _true_ gentleman carries around pocket knives in his boots.”

 

“I have no desire to know how you found that out.”

 

Mingyu smiles and helps Seungcheol get Jeonghan into the car. Later that morning, when Wonwoo finally makes a re-appearance, instead of asking where he was, Mingyu asks Wonwoo to lend him a book.

 

***

 

Painting the house lifts Minghao’s mood, so his flatmates can always tell by the ways the colours change what kind of month he’s having. Right now, his room is splashed with a pastel orange that reminds him of mango's and cocktails on the beach. He wants— _needs_ —to change that.

 

Well, his flatmates _would_ be able to tell if they were home, but they aren’t, and Minghao’s tempted to paint Soonyoung’s room instead as payback for breaking his hair straightener. Joshua is away tutoring, Soonyoung is dancing at the studio, and Jun— _Jun_ is at work with his pianist, and there’s something about that thought that makes Minghao want to paint his room black.

 

He doesn’t miss him. That would be stupid.

 

He’s not lonely. That would be stupid too.

 

It’s more the fact that Wonwoo, or whatever his name is, probably doesn’t know how to handle a heart that dives too far and too fast, and Minghao would rather not have to clean up the shattered pieces. Not like last time.

 

**2.32**

**U said it had a happy ending :(**

 

 

Minghao puts down his pot of paint, takes off his gloves and looks at the text, a reluctant smile edging his lips.  

 

 

**2.32**

**It does**

**2.33**

**But they broke up :( :(**

**2.33**

**Yeah**

**They didn’t die tho**

**Better a broken <3 than a broken neck**

 

**2.34**

**:(((((((((**

**Are u Satan**

 

**2.37**

**Yes.**

**Wat are u doing rn?**

 

**2.37**

**Crying. U?**

**2.38**

**Painting my walls. Cm help.**

 

Minghao’s not sure what it is about Mingyu he likes, but there’s something so refreshingly bright about his world view that makes anyone around him forget the rest of the stupid crap going on. Maybe Minghao has been a little lonely, and maybe Mingyu has too, so he likes to think it was less a _we have things in common_ and more of a situational relationship.

 

It started when a note came home with Jun one day that simply said ‘ _What do I read next? Meet me at the Strand. 11.30.’_ Minghao had been tempted not to go, because who is Mingyu to assume that he’s free? Whose Mingyu to assume he even _wants_ to go?

 

But he was free and he did want to go, armed with one of his all-time favorites. They met and coffee was drunk, but the whole time Minghao had expected—after all the stories from Jun—that Mingyu would try and make some kind of move. Minghao didn’t mind the thought of kissing Mingyu, but he did mind if Mingyu thought him an easy target. 

 

Only Mingyu didn’t make _any_ move and seemed genuinely interested in what he was talking about. That’s when Minghao realized he wasn’t quite the sleazy waiter he’d imagined, and maybe all he wanted was a friend.

 

“Are we allowed to be doing this?” Mingyu asks once he’s been squeezed into one of Minghao’s paint overalls. He looks like a giant Minion and Minghao can’t help but grin at the thought.

 

“Fucked if I know.” Minghao shrugs. “I’m pretty sure the landlord’s dead.”

 

“Ok, well just in case,” Mingyu gives him that goofy smile as he dips his brush into the paint—forest green this month. “If we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak Korean.”

 

“Shouldn’t I be the dumb foreigner in this situation?”

 

“No. I can pull it off way better.”

 

Minghao chuckles and slaps a wad of paint onto the wall, flickers flying into the air. “So, you hated the book?”

 

“Hated? I despised it. I want to erase it from my brain. _”_ Mingyu throws paint at the wall like he’s brandishing a sword. “They were made for each other and nothing happened. Seriously, why can’t you recommend one with a happy ending for once.”

 

“Because love sucks and people can’t wait forever. He had to leave.”

 

“No, he didn’t.” Mingyu urges, and it comes out like a whine. “Dogs are patient. They’ll wait forever for you to love them back. Why couldn’t he?”

 

“Dogs are infinitely better than humans. That’s why.”

 

Mingyu holds up his paint brush in question but lowers it slowly. “I mean…agreed, but—”

 

“She didn’t love him. How long was he supposed to keep trying?” It’s a fact and Minghao doesn’t have particularly strong feelings about it. He thinks they were sensible.

 

“Well what would you do?” Mingyu asks, but somehow, he’s gotten all serious, and he poses the question like it’s _important_. Maybe it is to him, and if it is, then it should be serious to Minghao too. “If he was your Romeo, but you’re not his Juliet?”

 

“That would make me Rosaline and I’d survive the fucking play.” Minghao mutters, making Mingyu laugh, but he draws back to an actual answer with a shrug. “Some love is self-destructive. You’ve got to know when to jump ship.”

 

“No way.” Mingyu counters, and there’s an endless smile in his eyes that suddenly make Minghao want to paint the room yellow. “You love whenever and however you can. That’s my motto.”

 

Perhaps that, Minghao thinks, is how his world is so bright.

 

 “That’s a dumb motto.” Is what he says, which results in green paint flying in his direction.

 

***

 

Mingyu will never be considered the smartest of the _Seventeen_ staff. Not by Jihoon, anyway. Hansol would stick up for him in some way, because he’s loyal like that. Seokmin wouldn’t care, because being smart is not what’s important to him about the people he loves.

 

Intelligence is a sensitive point to raise around him, especially if someone calls him stupid. Because there were many times in his childhood when people did so. Just like for Wonwoo, its emotions, and when people question whether he feels them.

 

Wonwoo is smart _,_ and everybody else knows it. Mingyu’s smart is a different _sort_ of smart. It moves against analytic, black and white cleverness. It is a curious intelligence. An inventive, imaginative and downright inquisitive love for _knowing things_ , unusual things, that rides alongside a passion for telling people about them.   

 

Not many people want to listen, that’s the problem, and it’s most likely the reason they don’t understand.  Minghao listens. Often, he points out what’s wrong about Mingyu’s newly obtained knowledge, or he hums about it for a moment, before looking vaguely impressed.

 

Minghao likes to read books about philosophy, society, and proverbs.

 

Mingyu likes to read books about love, friendship, and the lives of different people.

 

The thing is, Mingyu doesn’t really _like_ philosophy, and Minghao isn’t particularly fond of happy endings. They do, however, like each other. There is a silent agreement between them that they listen to one another when they rave, even if they don’t really care.

 

So, when Mingyu’s book ends, he calls Minghao up. Minghao nods and listens to him gush about it, and that’s all Mingyu needs him to do. Nod and listen. He repays the favour when Minghao wants to talk about life and peace and balance.

 

Sometimes, at 11.30 on a Wednesday, Mingyu will find Hao reading in the Strand. Mingyu will screw up his nose at the hideously long title, before he gets Minghao to shift over, and sits down next to him. Minghao will groan in annoyance, but he still doesn’t protest.

 

Just because they read different things, doesn’t mean it stops them from reading together. If a stranger walked in and found Mind and Love side by side, it would never fail to surprise them, how one person with interests far above, and one down below, could possibly get along the way they do.

 

***

 

Mingyu waits for two hours, which is probably one and a half hours too long, but it takes a long time for Mingyu’s hope to fade. The barista’s been giving him looks for the past twenty minutes. Not the angry, _get out of my café_ look, but a half-turn of pity which is notably worse.

 

Jeonghan would think he’s crazy.

 

“Ten minutes, tops, kid. If they aren’t showing up as eagerly as you are, then they’re not worth anymore of your time.”

 

Mingyu wants to think like that. He wants to walk out of here knowing he deserves better, but he can’t help wonder, maybe traffic was bad? Maybe he forgot the time? Maybe he lost his keys, maybe there was an accident, maybe his dog got sick, maybe—

 

Because any of that is better than thinking, _maybe he just didn’t want to come._

 

It is exactly 4.30pm when Mingyu decides to give up. Well, it’s less of a decision to give up, and more of _he’s got work in half an hour_ , but still, it’s a conscious choice to get up and leave.

 

He wants to text Wonwoo, because Wonwoo is there whenever stuff like this happens. But he can’t, not this time, because Wonwoo doesn’t know about _this._

 

Wonwoo doesn’t know that the guy he punched three days ago—the guy he’s been warning Mingyu not to see, not to text, just stood him up _again._

 

And Mingyu doesn’t want him to know, because he’ll be right about it all. He’ll be right about Mingyu being weak, being stupid, all of it. More than that, he doesn’t want Wonwoo to worry, because the idiot has finally made his move with Jun and Mingyu’s not about to screw it up.

 

So, he texts Minghao instead. Minghao who had listened when nobody at _Seventeen_ was an option. Minghao who hadn’t judged, who had simply said, _do what feels best_ , and left it at that.

**4.31**

**He didn’t show :(**

**4.31**

**Dick**

**4.32**

**Myb he forgot**

**4.32**

**Still a dick**

**don't worry**

**loves** **overrated**

**4.32**

**You’re right**

**Am I stupid?**

**4.33**

**No.**

**Do u want pizza**

**4.33**

**Yes**

**But I have work :(**

 

Cooking is the one thing Mingyu can lose himself in. It takes all his concentration to handle the intricate dance of keeping multiple dishes going and amid the chaos he can finally forget. So, on days like today, when Mingyu is feeling particularly _meh,_ Seungcheol steers him into the kitchen by the shoulders muttering about ‘how busy he is’ when there’s only three customers who have actually ordered food.  He’ll kick Hansol onto service, clear a bench, and throw Mingyu his favourite apron.

 

“Cook whatever you want kid, I’ll add it to the specials menu.”

 

Jun pops in every now and again with that sunny smile of his. He balances plates and talks for a while, chattering about customers and music and anything but Wonwoo. It all makes Mingyu feel worse. Because Jun is so obviously _in_ love that it hurts to know Mingyu’s not.

 

Mingyu thought it would be different this time. But it wasn’t. It never is. People come into his life, use him, then stroll right back out again without a thought to how he’s feeling.

 

When a pizza carton is thrust in front of Mingyu’s vision, the smell of garlic and cheese making his mouth water, it takes a moment to be surprised.

 

“You’re not stupid.” Minghao says, and Mingyu has no idea where he’s come from, how he got in here, or when Seungcheol took a break, all he knows is that all the air leaves his chest when Minghao swings himself onto the bench. “Seriously. You’re one of the only people I know that can quote Goblin off by heart.”

 

“That is stupid.”

 

“That’s a talent.” Minghao grabs a piece of pizza, legs swinging back and forth as he looks around the kitchen. “Being a hopeless romantic is kind of brave, in a way. That’s what I think.”

 

“…brave?”

 

“Yeah, sure. You open yourself up to more pain.” Minghao shrugs and it makes Mingyu smile, because Minghao always shrugs, as though the thing he’s just said isn’t poetry to Mingyu’s ears. “At least now you know for sure he’s a dick, and you can put it to rest.”

 

“Yeah.” Mingyu sighs and leans against the bench. “I just can’t help but wish things were different.”

 

“Wishing won’t change the world.”

 

“I know.” Mingyu nudges Minghao’s leg and launches himself up next to him, almost knocking the whole pizza to the ground. Minghao grabs it with his typical lightning fast reflexes. “Sometimes I feel like the world doesn’t want me to be happy. Like it’s telling me I’m not worth it.”

 

Minghao thinks on this for a moment, chewing in time to his thoughts. “You know, the first time I told my mom I wanted to be a dancer, she looked me dead in the eye and said I would never amount to anything.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Right? You know what I did? I became a fucking dancer.” Minghao nudges him.  “Don’t let the world, or men, or anyone, tell you what you can and can’t do. Fall in fucking love, Kim Mingyu.”

 

***

Alright, maybe Mingyu is a _little_ stupid.

 

Minghao knows that he’s not. Minghao likes the way his brain works more than anyone else’s. Just the other day Mingyu asked what Minghao thought benches would say if they could talk, and that’s just about the best question Minghao’s ever heard.

 

“I don’t know.” Minghao answered in between sips of his tea. “Ouch, that hurts, get off me? Especially if you were sitting on them, you lummox.”

 

Mingyu laughs, loud and unabashed. “I didn’t think of that!”

 

“What _were_ you thinking?”

 

He leans in, long arms folding across the table. “Well, imagine all the secrets they’d have to tell.”

 

Minghao tilts his head.

 

“Think of all the conversations they’ve heard. All the phone calls. How many lives would be ruined because of a single park bench? Crazy, right?”

 

Minghao holds back his usual _that’s so dumb_ , because it’s not dumb, it’s fascinating, but somehow his mind always wants him to say that.  “Woah. You’re right. No one would survive the bench-apocalypse.”

 

Mingyu’s laugh is infectious and Minghao gets lost in it, lost in the corners of his eyes, the turn of his lips, lost in the thought of why they haven’t kissed him yet.

 

Because Minghao wouldn’t mind getting kissed by Kim Mingyu.

 

He wouldn’t have minded last month either. At first he thought it was Wonwoo's drama getting in Mingyu's way, but then Mingyu’s been going on dates with other men and every time he tells Minghao about them, a bit of colour fades from Minghao’s walls. It’s past the point of Minghao being flattered that he’s taking so long to get to know him, and into the realm of just pure obliviousness. It makes Minghao think Mingyu doesn't find him attractive at all, that he's more like his kid brother than anything, and it's the not knowing that eats Minghao from the inside. 

 

One day, when Minghao asks Joshua “Do you think the rubbish bin gets sad or happy when we put food in it?” and Joshua replies “Are you high?”, Minghao finds himself missing Mingyu an awful lot, and decides to do something about his current predicament. Because what is the point of sitting and missing someone when one can just go be with them. 

 

As Mingyu says, you love whenever and however you can. Minghao’s never done that before. He’s not sure he’s in love now, either, but there’s a weird feeling in his chest he’s experienced only twice. Dancing and being around Mingyu. Surely that means something.

 

Minghao throws a satchel over his shoulder and strides into the lounge like a man on a mission, only to find Jun and Wonwoo being annoyingly domestic on the couch. Wonwoo’s got his nose in a book with Jun asleep on his lap, and it makes Minghao glare at them because his best friends a dick and doesn’t deserve to be so cute.

 

Except he does and Minghao’s secretly happy, but he just likes to glare, ok.

 

“Dance emergency?” Wonwoo asks, in the way that an annoying older brother does when he thinks he’s cool and you’re absurd

 

“Nope.” Minghao slides past him and swings open the front door. “I’m going to go ask out your best friend. Bye.”

 

***

 

Careful not to crease the corners, Wonwoo shuts the book he’s been reading and places it on the table. He doesn’t put his books—especially not the good ones, and _especially_ not on a Sunday afternoon—down for just any reason. Jun, head resting on Wonwoo’s lap, opens his eyes.

 

Wonwoo goes to get up but Jun with his stupidly strong- and extremely attractive- arms, holds Wonwoo in place by sitting up, twisting, and pinning him against the back of the couch. “Jun,” he warns, eyes darting to the door.

 

“Don’t you dare.” Jun mutters, flickers of a smile cornering his lips. One hand moves beneath Wonwoo’s shirt, but Wonwoo’s quick to grab his wrist. This is not the time for distractions. “Seriously, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for Mingyu to do something about them?”

 

“Do you know how glad I’ve been that he _hasn’t?”_ Wonwoo feels the familiar surge of protectiveness tighten his chest. “He and I have talked about this, you know. Mingyu thought Hao was happy being alone. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have.”

 

“What do they have? A book club?” Jun blinks. “What’s there to ruin?”

 

“Their friendship. Our friendship.”

 

 “I don’t know what your definition of friendship is.” Jun’s hands now go for Wonwoo’s buttons, fingers warm on Wonwoo’s skin. “But I’m pretty sure we’re past that.”

 

Wonwoo bats him off. “No, you idiot. Not us. If Minghao breaks Mingyu’s heart I will _hate_ him. Vice versa. You get that right?”

 

“What so no double dates? Shit what a shame.”

 

“Jun, I’m serious.”

 

“No, you’re a scrooge. A relationship scrooge. And Mingyu and Minghao’s relationship is Christmas.”

 

“That’s a terrible analogy.”

 

“Fine you’re the Grinch,” Jun’s hands are _very_ distracting, and the way his voice lowers doesn’t help, “and they are those creepy kids from Whoville.”

 

“For god’s sake—” Wonwoo grabs both Jun’s wrists this time. “Text your friend and tell him it’s a bad idea.”

 

“No, because it’s not.”

 

Now is not the time for Wonwoo to be thinking how much he loves this man and the way he looks when he’s defiant. “Then…just…ow!”

 

Jun manages to free himself by stamping on Wonwoo’s foot and preceding to turn the tables by holding Wonwoo down again. “Minghao isn’t some back alley alcoholic,” Jun hisses, glaring at him. “He’s Mingyu’s friend, for one thing. He doesn’t just want him for sex, for another. Do you really think I'd have some fuckboy for a best friend?”

 

"Well..."

 

"Ow! Shit, alright, alright.” Wonwoo would hold his hands up in surrender if they weren’t currently being held hostage.

 

“Mingyu’s had a lot of bad luck, everyone knows that. Minghao’s careful with hearts. Trust me. He’s very good at putting them back together.”

_Trust me._ At those words, any tightness eases.

 

Ah fuck it.

 

Jun doesn’t let go, he just stares at him until Wonwoo forgets what they were even talking about. “That hurt,” he says, and if it’s a whimper it’s only to make Jun feel bad.

 

Jun smiles. “Good.”

 

“That’s not what an apology sounds like.”

 

“Oh, _bite me_ Jeon Wonwoo.”

 

“I mean, I need to finish my book first, but if that’s what you want—ow!”

 

***

 

They first met in the dappled shadows of a bar Mingyu’s come to call home, when Mingyu had a heart full of too many stories, and Minghao was tall, and smooth and elegant.

 

It’s weird, to think of him like that now as his hands rub together nervously, his sleeves too big for his arms. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is off kilter, and Mingyu had to grab him by the shoulders to get him to sit down.

 

The bar is not covered in shadows, but slits of artificial light, eerily silent without any of its usual chaos.

 

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asks, when it’s clear that he’s not.

 

“You make me want to paint my room rainbow.” Minghao blurts out before quickly covering his mouth with his long sleeve. “Shit. That’s gay.”

 

Mingyu laughs—because this is how a conversation with Minghao should always start, laughter and a little bit of swearing. Mingyu goes to say something, but Minghao holds up his hand.

 

“No, wait…I want a bench to know our secrets.”

 

It takes a moment for Mingyu to process the comment. He snorts when it does and Minghao winces, fingers curling. “Hell, nope, that was dumb too.”

 

Mingyu leans back in his chair, a grin stretching across his face because he’s quite sure no one’s ever tried _this_ hard and failed in quite so epic a fashion.

 

“How about, if we were a book, I wouldn’t want us to be one that I’d recommend? Does that fit?” Minghao looks to the roof as though prompt cards are there instead of cobwebs and cracked ceilings. “I want us to be like the soppy one’s you read. Oh gross, this is getting worse, but you obviously understand what I’m saying so can you just…say something so that I can… _stop_ saying things.”

 

Mingyu breathes and the only words that form are: “God you’re adorable.”

 

“Yeah.” Minghao’s shoulders sink and he holds his chin in his hand. “But what _kind_ of adorable? The little brother kind or the _push you against a wall_ kind, because I’m tired of seeing you get hurt and I really want to kiss you.”

 

Mingyu’s favourite thing about Minghao is the way he never shies from the truth. It’s one of the many reasons Mingyu feels so safe around him, because Mingyu's bad at being blunt, and Minghao can't seem to lie. 

 

Mingyu’s second favourite thing is the way Hao’s lips feel soft beneath Mingyu’s, and that they taste, oddly, of kiwifruit.

 

His third favourite is the surprised little _oh_ he releases when Mingyu pulls away.

 

Minghao’s lips turn into a pout as one shocked finger brushes over them. “Why the fuck didn’t you do that sooner?”

 

“I thought you wanted to read books,” Mingyu says, unable to contain the flow of warmth that spills through him. “And paint walls.”

 

“I do. But I’d like to do all that _and_ kiss you.”

 

That, Mingyu realises, is the difference he’s been looking for all along.

 

Mingyu has two types of people in his life, his friends—those that want to know him—and those that want sex. Considering Minghao wanted to know him, Mingyu just assumed that was _all_ he wanted. “Oh my god…” he whispers. “How long? You let me go on a date with a guy that had a My Little Pony collection and you didn’t _say_ anything?”

 

Minghao shrugs. “Maybe I’ve got one too.”

 

“It’ll match the rainbow wallpaper.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Ok.”

 

People come to the bar, they bring their stories, and they leave again. Maybe they feel a bit lighter. Maybe they think on him once or twice. But they still leave. He can fill in the blanks and make a character out of them, lust after some fantasy he’s built in his mind.

 

Minghao stayed around long enough to rewrite himself.

 

There have been times when he’s been cold, times when he’s grumpy and lonely to balance out the smiles and laughter. The character Mingyu once envisioned was torn down and rebuilt right from the start, until he wasn’t a character, until Minghao was flesh and blood and someone that felt like home.

 

Mingyu kisses him again, and it feels as good as the first time. What’s even better is the knowledge that if Mingyu wasn’t kissing him, Minghao would still want to be _here._ It makes him wonder if he’s been doing love wrong this whole time.

 

"Want to help me paint my walls?" Minghao asks as he pulls away

 

"Hell yeah," Mingyu says, knowing that if Minghao asked him to paint the damn sky he'd do it, and be content if that's all they ever did. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I liked this AU too much to abandon it straight away, so thanks for reading this little bit of fun! Keep an eye out for some more side characters later on.


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